Page 91 of Destined for the Devil
That's my girl.
John turned out to be the level-headed partner—a real pushover, unlike her father. If it had been just him at the wheel, everything would have been very different.
I waited in my car for her to exit the building and then followed her the entire time she walked back, second-guessing how I should approach her. She looked so deep in thought, I didn’t want to accost her again, but then someone else did. That motherfucker Sam latched onto her like a leech.
Rage, pure rage, overtook every single fucking corner of my body. He was so obviously interested. And then, when he approached her and grabbed her hand…well then, I couldn't just sit back.
After three whole fucking months,three agonizing, longest months of my entire shitty life, this was not how I imagined I would see and talk to her again.
I was touching her again, thinking that it was a hallucination. Her tears ran down her sweet cheeks when she finally looked into my eyes, expressing exactly how I’d felt. I’d shed so many tears, and inside I was still a complete disaster.
Without saying a word, she slid her hand into mine and led me inside her building and upstairs to her apartment. Walking fast, she unlocked the door and pulled me in, both of us suddenly enveloped in the darkness of her new home. We just stood there in front of each other, lost, broken, having nothing to say.
"Now I'm okay,” she whispered, flicking the lights on. Such pure innocence reflected in her eyes, just like when I first met her. I couldn’t stop looking her over. She looked exactly the same but also…completely different.
She pulled her pompom hat off and unraveled her huge scarf only to shock me with a new detail. She cut off her long hair. It looked fucking amazing. Isla could do nothing wrong. It ended a few centimeters above her shoulders, and while I was expecting to see her usual cascading waterfall, she was as enchanting as ever.
"You—you cut your hair." I breathed out a non-thought when she took her coat off. My hand reached over by itself, and I grazed my fingers on the soft ends of her hair, memories of our time together flashing in my mind.
She closed her eyes and took a sharp breath in…as if she was touched by ice.
"Yes. This morning." She strutted away, motioning for me to follow her.
I loved that I was in another one of her apartments while it was completely unfurnished and new. This felt just like the last time, except everything was so different between us back then. "You obviously sent all this?" She pointed to her kitchen island, overflowing with papers.
Fuck, I couldnotstop looking at her. It had been so goddamn long since I’d seen her, and here she was in front of me with a new haircut and energy. She looked exactly like the girl who got away…and at the same time, like a brand-new person.
I slowly nodded, unable to rip my eyes away from her. She nodded too, like she was making a concession.
"I spoke to John Clemens today. I believe you're acquainted?” she asked lightly and crossed her arms. “He said you were avery dangerous man,but he obviously has no idea what that means, exactly." She gifted me a small smile, one that I hadn’t seen in months.
I also had no idea what her words meant, exactly.
Expecting me to respond, she stood a few feet away, but I said nothing, absolutely lost for words. She was so close but so distant. Did a whole lifetime pass since the summer? Did I know this angel?
Slowly, she walked around the island, pinning me with her gaze when she stopped a few inches away from me. All of me broke out in goosebumps, like I had never been close to a woman before.
"Last time I wanted you to stay, I couldn't say it, but now...it looks like you're lost for words.Hochesh ostatsya na uzhin?"
Seconds ticked by while I clued in that Isla had just asked me if I wanted to stay for dinner—in Russian.With almost no accent. My eyes took in all of her beauty, that small smile stretching her lips once more. Fuck. She obviously decided to kill me slowly.
"That's basically all I know. Duolingo doesn't really teach you a whole lot,” she added playfully and headed to her fridge.
It dawned on me that I hadn't moved or said anything since I walked in—just stood there as if I were a tree.
"Okay, so for dinner, I have..." Isla peered into her half-empty fridge. "White wine, milk, a carton of eggs, some toast, a few blueberries, hot sauce—obviously, soy sauce, and…three onions!" She turned back around, her smile bright and cheerful.
I couldn't reconcile her light attitude with how broken I felt. Her smile was easy and playful, like she was feeling great and fully over our separation, while I…I was damn near suicidal!
Finally, I spoke. "It's rude to show up to someone's new home without anything. Let me order dinner. What do you feel like?" We settled on sushi, and she made sure I ordered extra wasabi.
I put the phone away just in time to see her hop onto the kitchen island. I approached and leaned on the counter with my elbows, somehow making it all feel forbidden.
Was I allowed to do this? To be this close to her? I’d been in the deepest pits of despair for so long, I couldn’t figure out how to behave around her.
"Are you going to stay and take your coat off?" Isla gazed down at me, holding my entire existence in her hands. I straightened out, and her smile turned into intrigue as I slid my coat off, her eyes glued to me.
Mm, yes. That's right, Isla. Your eyes should never leave me.
